


Queer Eye for the Moth Guy

by BoldlyGone1



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Candlenights, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nausea, Sensory Overload, TAZ Amnesty, slight canon divergence from episode 19, the Indruck might be slow burn or more implied we'll see, trans duck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-09-25 03:49:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17113910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoldlyGone1/pseuds/BoldlyGone1
Summary: “You know you can’t exactly nominate a cryptid for reality TV, right?”“Duck, Duck, shh.” Aubrey held a finger in front of his face. “Listen. We’ll be the Fab Five.”In which the Pine Guard plus Dani attempt to fix Indrid's life, Queer Eye style, in time for the Candlenights dinner at Amnesty Lodge. The only problem? Most of them don't know much about their chosen subject. And Indrid hasn't left the RV park in over a decade. And Duck's heating bill is about to skyrocket -Actually, maybe there's a few problems.





	1. Remember Who You're Talking To

                “Aubrey...” Duck put his coffee mug down next to the bowl of carrots Barclay had been chopping. “You know you can’t exactly nominate a cryptid for reality TV, right?”

                Aubrey scowled at him, folding her arms. “I _know_ that.”

                “Plus, Indrid would probably hate a bunch of strangers coming in –”

                “Duck, Duck, shh.” Aubrey held a finger in front of his face. “Listen. _We’ll_ be the Fab Five.”

                Duck blinked, feeling a strange sense of foreboding. “This ‘we’ being...?”

                “You, me, Ned, Barclay, and Dani,” Aubrey said matter-of-factly. She bounced excitedly on her toes. “I’ll do culture, Barclay’ll do food and wine, Ned’ll do interior design, you’ll do fashion –”

                “Now, I don’t know anything about fashion, and I wouldn’t trust Ned within ten feet of a color palette –”

                “—and Dani will do grooming.”

                “—I’m not sure he even knows what a color palette _is._ ” Duck stopped as Aubrey’s last sentence caught up with him. “Does Dani actually know anything about styling hair, or did you just pick her ’cause you think she’s cute?”

                Aubrey stuck out her tongue. “She’s got long beautiful hair, Duck, she must know something.”

                Duck grinned. “Sounds to me like you got a big ol’ crush.”                                         

                “Would you rather trust Ned with a pair of scissors?”

                Duck snorted and sipped his coffee, trying to get time to think in the face of the unstoppable force that was Aubrey Little with a plan. He was still reeling from her _Lord of the Rings_ marathon. “Sounds like you got this really well planned out. Uh, kinda alarmingly so. And everyone’s on board?”

                Aubrey hesitated, and Duck eyed her over the rim of his mug. “You haven’t asked anyone else yet, have you?”

                “We-ell, no,” she admitted, “But it’s a great idea, right? Like, I’m sure Barclay’ll be down for it.”

                “Down for wh –” There was a clatter as Barclay emerged from the pantry with an armload of food and promptly dropped several cans on the ground. “Aw, beans.”

                There were a few moments of retrieving and organizing, and then Barclay deposited the last of his burden on the counter and turned to look at them. “What exactly am I bein’ enlisted for?”

                “We’re gonna _Queer Eye_ Indrid!” Aubrey said enthusiastically.

                Barclay, much like Duck before him, blinked. “We’re gonna do what now?”

                “ _Queer Eye_ ,” she repeated. “You know, the show on Netfl – oh damn, right, you guys don’t really get Wi-Fi here.” She tapped her chin contemplatively. “It’s like, basically these five gay guys go to someone’s house whose life is just a disaster, and they help them get their shit together.”

                “They each have a specialty,” Duck chimed in, and ignored Barclay’s raised eyebrows because why the hell not, he’d seen a few episodes when he went to that ranger conference in Pittsburgh. He might have cried over “Sky’s the Limit.” “Fashion, culture, cooking, that kind of thing. They redecorate the person’s house, get ’em a new wardrobe, help talk through their feelings so they can get more confidence and shit.”

                “And if there’s anyone around here who needs to get their shit together,” Aubrey said, “It’s Indrid Cold.”

                “Indrid Cold,” Barclay repeated thoughtfully, rubbing his beard. “I think I met him once, a long time ago. Didn’t even know he was still in Kepler until he started callin’ here during this last hunt. What’s wrong with his life that he needs, uh, needs his wardrobe redecorated?”

                Duck and Aubrey exchanged a look. “He’s kind of a mess,” the ranger admitted. “I mean, he seems pretty confident, he’s super chill –”

                “Bullshit, you saw what happened with Keith,” Aubrey interrupted. “’Seems’ is a big word. But like, his RV is a fucking mess, he only eats eggnog and Hot Pockets, and I’m pretty sure he just wears a tank top and jeans, like, _every day._ And of course, he lives out in the middle of the woods and never talks to anybody, which is not healthy in my book.” She grinned mischievously. “So that’s why we’re gonna recreate what they do in the show to help him!” 

                Nodding slowly, Barclay reached for a potato and started peeling it. “Sounds like a pretty nice thing to do, if I’m picking up what you’re puttin’ down. And you want me to do what, exactly?”

                Duck took up a potato peeler himself and listened with amusement as Aubrey explained the intricacies of being the “Food & Wine guy” and how coming up with simple recipes would hopefully get Indrid more interested in meals that weren’t liquid or microwaved. Where’d the man get so much nog outside the holiday season, anyway? Duck zoned out as the other two began avidly discussing casseroles, and only tuned back in when Aubrey thumped the counter excitedly and declared, “He could bring it for the feast!”

                That had the suspicious air of a forgotten responsibility. “The what now?”

                “The Candlenights feast,” said Barclay, and right, yeah, Duck maybe remembered hearing something about that. “It’s in about a week – we’re gonna be having a big dinner to celebrate. It’s a Sylvan holiday, kinda the same ‘ray of hope in the cold winter’ aesthetic as some of your Earth ones.”

                “ _And_ everyone’s supposed to contribute a dish,” Aubrey said, grinning in a way that made Duck suspect she could tell he was internally panicking. “At the end of the episode, the hero – the client, that’s what they’re called – always has some big event or something to go to, and if we invite Indrid to the feast, he can make one of the recipes he learns from Barclay.” She poked him in the side, still smiling in what he considered a far-too-evil manner. “You were gonna make something, right?”

                “Right, right, definitely. Of course!” Shit. Duck wasn’t a helpless bachelor by any means, but between his ranger duties and training with Minerva, this was just going to make his to-do list longer. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll bring something.”  Both Barclay and Aubrey were smirking at him now, and that kind of ganging up was entirely unfair, so he ruffled Aubrey’s pompadour (earning an indignant yelp) and tossed his peeled potato to the resident Bigfoot. “Anyway, uh, you in on this, Barclay?”

                Wrinkling his nose at Duck’s potato, which admittedly looked like he’d taken Beacon to it, Barclay picked up his own peeler and started repairing the damage. “Yeah, why not? I’m always happy to help someone out.” He stopped, and Duck could see a faint blush to his cheeks as he stared down at the potato. “I kinda feel guilty, if we’re just putting it out there. I mean, from what you’re sayin’ it sounds like this guy’s been living on his own for ages, and, well, if I knew he was still around I woulda asked him up to the Lodge.”

                “Don’t worry about it,” said Aubrey, having apparently given up on smoothing her hair back into place. “He’s known about you guys all along, and it was his decision to stay out there by himself. Like I said, kinda paranoid.”

                “Huh.” Snagging Duck’s empty mug off the counter, Barclay deposited it in the sink and turned on the faucet. “Man, it musta taken you a lot of work to get him to agree to this.”

                Silence fell, broken only by the running tap and soft conversation drifting in from the lobby. Barclay tipped his head back and gazed at the ceiling, looking the way he had when they’d run out of popcorn an hour into _Fellowship of the Ring_. “You haven’t asked him yet, have you?”

                Aubrey turned to Duck with a winning smile and, yup, there was that sense of foreboding again.

__________________________

                Duck pulled off his scarf and hat as he entered Indrid’s Winnebago, the oppressive warmth from the army of space heaters coaxing steam up from his jacket.

                “So,” Indrid said, closing the door behind him, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Duck? That is, I know you’re here to ask me to do something, but the outcomes are a bit puzzling and I have to admit I’m curious.”

                “Got it in one,” Duck said, glancing down to make sure he hadn’t tracked in too much snow. He looked at Indrid, the man’s eyebrows raised expectantly over his glasses, and then looked away again. “Except, uh, by doing what I ask you’re actually gonna make it so we can do somethin’ for you. The Pine Guard, I mean. And Dani.” He scratched his head. “You probably don’t know Dani, she’s –”

                “Aubrey’s girlfriend,” Indrid finished.

                Duck chuckled at that and looked back at him. “Well, not yet, but – oh god, Indrid, please tell me they get together, I’m sick of them goin’ in circles around each other.”

                “Spoilers,” Indrid said mischievously. Duck couldn’t see his eyes behind the glasses, but the tilt of his head suggested a wink.

                “You been watching _Doctor Who?_ Thought you were a Ryan Gosling man.”

                “My tastes are many and of excellent culture.” Indrid moved past him to the refrigerator, grinning in that otherworldly way of his. “Besides, I’ve got to keep some mystery alive, hmm? What fun would it be if I told you everything all the time? Nog?”

                The last question in the string caught Duck off guard. “Oh, uh, no thanks. But yeah, I don’t think I mind having my fun ruined when it’s, like, a matter of life and death. Or of me losing my mind listening to people pine over each other.”

                “I’m afraid you’ll have to muscle through this one on your own.” Replacing the eggnog carton, Indrid closed the refrigerator and leaned back against the counter. “Which brings us back to the original subject...?”

                “Right.” Shiiit. Duck took a deep breath. “Indrid, you’re gonna come live at my apartment for a while. I mean, please.”

                Indrid stared at him, and Duck imagined he was blinking bemusedly. “I beg your pardon?”

                “You’re gonna stay at my apartment,” Duck repeated, fingering the inside seam of his gloves nervously. “I’ve got a fold-out couch, and a cat, and I’ll buy a bunch of eggnog. Just for like, a week.”

                Indrid looked utterly bewildered. “Not that I don’t appreciate the invitation, but why exactly are you asking me to do this?”

                “You can’t, uh foresee it?” Duck asked, half joking, half hoping he wouldn’t have to explain what Aubrey had roped him into.

                Indrid went quiet for a moment, and then slowly shook his head. “It’s not making much sense without context clues – I’m getting Ned with a paintbrush? To be honest, I’ve never been quite as good at seeing my own future, which...doesn’t exactly make it easier to decide if a town is safe to stay in or not. But that’s life, I guess. Anyway, why do you want me to come to your house?”

                “Well, uh...” Suddenly Duck couldn’t look at him again. “There’s this show where these gay dudes go and help someone whose lifestyle could use some, let’s say, improving, and Aubrey decided that the Pine Guard is gonna recreate it ourselves. So we’re gonna redecorate your RV, and get you a new look, and help you cook some stuff so at the end of the week, you can bring it to the Candlenights dinner at Amnesty Lodge. Which you’re invited to.” He rubbed his neck. “Honestly, I don’t know what all Aubrey has planned, there’s probably some other stuff she’s gonna do that I didn’t mention, but like....yeah, we just think that maybe you could be living a better life than what you are now?” He waved a hand at the piles of junk lining the tables and chairs. “I mean, no offense, but your place is kind of a mess, and you’re our friend so of course we wanna help you out.”

                For several long moments, the hum of the space heaters was the only response, until Duck started to wonder if his rambling had actually made any sense. He looked at Indrid, and was unnerved to find the other man staring at him, his gaze inscrutable behind the red lenses. Slowly, Indrid lowered his head to stare at the floor, and when he finally spoke his voice was so quiet and so forceful that it took Duck aback.

                “I’ve been a fool.”

                “Sorry?”

                “Are you?”

                “What?” Duck blinked in confusion as Indrid’s head shot up to look at him, and this time every tense line of his body indicated that it was a glare.

                “I’ve been a _fool_ ,” Indrid repeated, the final word hissed between his teeth. He paced in the small space between the counter and the opposing wall, running his hands through his hair. “I’ve – I’ve forgotten myself.”

                “Well, hey now.” Duck took a step towards him, concerned. “I mean yeah, you could stand to clean up a bit, but it’s nothing to beat yourself up about – ”

                “I’ve forgotten what I am.” Indrid faced him, breathing hard now. Duck had never seen him lose his composure like this, and he opened his mouth only to be cut off when Indrid spoke again. “I’ve always known it was stupid to get close to people. I let myself slip this time, becoming friendly with all of you. There was a reason I stopped interfering with fate.” He almost seemed to be talking to himself, but the red lenses fixed on Duck’s face belied that. “I never should have gotten involved again.”

                “You – I mean – ” Duck was at a loss. “You’re doing good with your, uh, interfering. You’re saving lives. And there’s nothing wrong with gettin’ close to people – aren’t you lonely out here? Don’t you wanna go out and meet new folks? Spend time with the other Sylvans?”

                Indrid’s laugh was low and bitter and completely unlike anything Duck would have expected. “Do you know what happens when I meet people, Duck Newton? I frighten them. They ignore my warnings, they find me unnerving, and they hunt me down and send me running for my life. And then they die, because they didn’t listen.” He shook his head, his messy silver hair falling into his face. “And spending time with other Sylvans – yes, let’s get a whole bunch of cryptids in one place and see which of us attracts the gawkers first. That way we can all get killed together!”

                “Hell, Indrid, you don’t know that’s gonna happen.”

                “Don’t I?” He stepped so close that Duck could see his own face reflected in his lenses, confused and nervous. “You forget – I know _everything_ that’s going to happen, everything that could ever happen. I’ve crafted this life, here in my Winnebago, so that no matter the outcome, I can survive it.” The cheap light fixture overhead glinted off his glasses. “I haven’t left this RV park in over a decade, and I’m not about to put myself in danger because you think we can be _friends._ ” He released Duck from his glare, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “You forget what I am.”

                “If you’re not our friend, then what are you?” Duck demanded, suddenly fed up with the man’s attitude.

                Indrid gazed skyward a moment longer, and then he whipped his head back down and smiled, his mouth stretching wider than it ever had, curving eerily upward in the way that had given him one of his most famous nicknames. “I’m a _fucking monster.”_ He reached for his glasses as though about to remove them, and Duck saw the trepidation on his own face, saw his own reflection flinch backwards as he remembered how terrifying Indrid’s Sylvan form had been. He saw fear, reflected back to him in the lenses, and knew from the tightness in Indrid’s smile that he had proved him right.

                “Indrid...shit...”

                “Please leave my home, Duck Newton.” The request was polite, calm, collected. Perfectly reasonable. Perfectly human.

                Duck left.

                 __________________________             

 

                The phone call came at 1:20 in the morning. Duck’s cat, Daisy, shifted by his feet as he rolled over and fumbled for his phone, trying to pick it up and turn on the light at the same time. His confrontation with Indrid had left his stomach in a churning heap of guilt and anger that he didn’t want to examine, and sleep had been a promising escape. “Go for Duck,” he mumbled into the receiver, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. _This had better be damn important._

                “I’d like to offer an apology.”

                The lilting voice took him by surprise, and he sat fully upright and tried to shake off the last dregs of exhaustion. “Indrid?”

                “The, ah, the one and only. I’m sorry to wake you, I forgot to consider your human sleep cycle.”

                Well, that was only slightly unsettling. “ **No problem** ,” Duck said, only to have the words twinned by Indrid’s voice. “So, um. We didn’t end on a good note, **did we?** ”

                “I’m afraid not.” He faintly heard the clink of a glass on a counter, and wondered if Indrid had some eggnog at the ready. “As I said, I’d like to apologize. I...was a bit harsh, shall we say.”

                “Nah, nah, you’re good,” Duck replied. The frustration he had fallen asleep with seemed to have disappeared, leaving him only with a sad sort of weariness. “I did kinda barge in and order you to change your life around, so I guess this one’s on me.”

                Indrid chuckled, and he sounded about as tired as Duck felt. “You have a point, but there was...there was no call for me to act the way I did.” He drew in a breath. “To deliberately frighten you. I...”

                He didn’t continue, and Duck stared at the glowing red display on his Mickey Mouse clock and said, “Yeah?” as the minute changed over.

                “I appreciate what you all want to do for me. I admit that my lifestyle, while having sustained me thus far, is not perhaps the best that it could be.”

                “So you’ve changed your mind?” Duck asked, surprised. “You’ll do it?”

                There was another long silence. “The thing is,” Indrid said softly, “that I’m...scared.”

                Oh. “Hey, uh, it’s okay. There’s nothing to **be worried about.”** Duck blinked. Indrid hadn’t done his voice predication bit since they’d first met, and now this was three times in one conversation.

                “I meant what I said earlier, however much I may regret the tone.” There was the crinkle of paper, and Duck wasn’t sure if the man was destroying a disproved prediction or just crumpling the drawing out of stress. “I truly haven’t left this RV park in a very long time. I never even leave my Winnebago unless it’s absolutely necessary. You have to understand, I hide and live the way I do for my own protection, and it’s saved my life many times. The idea of giving that up, even just to spend a few days with people who know what I am, it’s....”

                He let the sentence trail off, and Duck swallowed and watched Daisy’s side rise and fall in her sleep. “Listen,” he said, hoping to hell that he sounded reassuring. “I can see that it’d be intimidating, and again, I’m real sorry to push you out of your comfort zone. But you’ll be among....” Friends, he wanted to say, but after their last encounter he didn’t want to try his luck – “among people you can trust.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The folks up at the Lodge’ve been hiding from humans for probably as long as you have, and they’re doing just fine. Nothing bad’ll happen to you there, and it sure as hell won’t at my place – the most excitement we get round here is somebody’s wreath getting knocked off their front door. And if anything did happen, we’d be here to help. You know I ain’t too good at lying, but Ned’s probably the best bullshitter there is, and he could talk our way out of any bad situation.”

              He got another weak laugh for that. “I – I don’t doubt his skills,” Indrid said. “He’s certainly had plenty of practice.” More crumpling of paper. “I....Duck, I....”

             “You’ll be safe with us, Indrid. **I promise.** ” Duck paused. “ **You okay, man?** Been a while since you’ve done your, uh, **parroting thing**.”

              “I’m sorry.” Indrid blew out a long breath. “It’s something of a nervous habit – it helps me process all the input I’m receiving.”

              “Input?”

              “That’s part of the problem,” Indrid said quietly. “Even if I can believe that no harm will come to me in this little adventure, the fact remains that I’m not used to so much social interaction. Occasionally I speak to telemarketers, or the campground owner, or the man I pay to bring me groceries, but for the most part I’m alone. When we first met I was doing ‘my parroting thing,’ as you call it, because it was the first I’d spoken to more than one person at a time in, well, a very long time.”

              “Coulda fooled me,” Duck said, trying to be encouraging. “You seemed pretty confident.”

             “It helps when you have an idea of where the conversation is going to go.” Indrid sighed again. “But, Duck – it’s not just that I can predict what you’re likely to say seconds before you say it. If I don’t restrain myself, I can also see every possible outcome of every action you might take – picking something up, knocking something over, scratching your head...it’s the same with all the potential threads of conversation, and all of it can stretch on into the future until you’re standing in my living room and I’m seeing how you might get run down by a motorcycle next Tuesday. There are so many variables, compounded with the fact that I have to listen to what you’re actually saying, and choose my response based on your possible reactions. If I’m not practiced enough in limiting the futures I see, it can be incredibly overwhelming – hence the ‘parroting.’ When you three came to my door I had tried to prepare, but it still took me a few minutes to get myself entirely under control. Spending an extensive amount of time talking to all the people at the Lodge...it’s rather daunting.”

                Duck stared at Daisy, thinking hard. “Well,” he said slowly, “I mean, shit, yeah, I can see how you’d be, uh, hesitant to walk into that. But you can get some practice, right? Because Barclay’ll be coming to teach you some recipes, and Dani will be by to work on your hair or whatever, and I was already figurin’ we’d go to the store to get you some new clothes. So you could be hanging out with at least four people at once, and maybe spending time in small crowds even if you’re not talking to those folks, and hell, just bein’ with me at my place should be more interaction than you usually get. By the end of the week, you might be more used to all of it.”

                “I suppose that’s possible,” Indrid said doubtfully.

                “And you know what,” Duck said, warming to the subject, “If you really wanted to, you could – kinda warn folks when you get to the Lodge, ask ’em not to talk to you all at once so you don’t get overwhelmed, and if you need some peace and quiet you could go off by yourself for a spell. If you want us to make you an excuse or help you slip away, we could even come up with some kind of signal so we know to help. I’m sure Aubrey’d love that, it’s like some spy shit.”

                There was a long silence, so long that Duck was about to ask if the connection had broken when Indrid said quietly, “I’m still here.” Duck heard him inhale slowly, and then: “...You understand this won’t be easy for me.”

                “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

                “I....” A definite gulp of eggnog, probably for strength. “I think that I will. On the condition that if I feel I may be in danger at any point, you allow me to return to my lifestyle without complaint.”

                “Yeah, yeah, sure, buddy. No problem, but we’ll make sure nothing bad happens.” Duck yawned, trying to angle it away from the receiver. “Shit, sorry.”

                “I should let you go, I’m keeping you up – ”

                “No, listen, I’m glad you called.” Duck fiddled with a loose thread on his pajama shirt, trying to find the right wording. “Thanks for being honest with me. We’ll all do our best to help you, and – and you know you can, like, talk to us about shit like this, right? And hopefully once you know some folks from the Lodge better, you’ll be comfortable around them too, they’re all real nice and I’m sure they’ll be glad to meet you.”

                “Thank you, Duck.” He could hear the smile in Indrid’s voice. “I’m sure this is going to be...interesting. Gods help me, I think I’m starting to enjoy having friends.” He cleared his throat. “Good night, Duck. You’re going to sleep well.”

                “’Night, Indrid.” And with a smile of his own, Duck put the phone back in the cradle and turned out the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is slightly canon divergent in that all the stuff in episode 19 with Minerva and Boyd didn't happen, just because I felt like going into the repercussions of that would be out of place in this fic.
> 
> TBH the original plan was to have this whole thing written and posted by Christmas, but obviously life got in the way. This is the first multi-chapter fic I've attempted in a long time, and I'll do my best to not have huge gaps between updates - although Candlenights may be occurring sometime in January...
> 
> Hope you enjoy! You can also find me at one-more-miracle-gatsby.tumblr.com


	2. New Digs

                “You know,” Duck said, watching Ned rub his hands together like a goddamn supervillain, “I don’t think this whole gleeful cackling thing you’re doing is all that reassuring.”

                Ned waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, Indrid looks perfectly reassured!” (Indrid, standing in his bedroom doorway with a packed bag and raised eyebrows, did not particularly.) “This is merely the sound of creative genius at work!”

                “Creative genius sounds like the Joker?”

                “Only to the untrained ear.”

                “What does that fucking _mean –_ ”

                Indrid cleared his throat before Duck could attempt to get some sense out of Ned – probably knowing it was a futile effort, Duck guessed. The seer hefted his worn duffel bag and stepped into what served as his living room. “I believe I have everything I need. I’m glad to see you’re excited at the prospect of redecorating my home.”

                “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Ned declared. “Not to worry, Indrid, I’m going to create a really honest, layered space for you. Very chic.” He made a grand sweeping gesture, indicating the piles of paper, Hot Pocket wrappers, and other odds and ends that dominated the Winnebago. “It’s going to be reimagined, timeless, whimsical – ”

“-curated, and tailored,” Indrid finished. “Did you look up a bunch of interior design buzzwords?”

                “There’s going to be some serious contrived patina.”

                “Despite all of this bullshit,” Duck said, shooting him a look, “He really does know what he’s doing, _don’t you, Ned?”_

                “Of course, of course!” Ned gave Indrid a wink that was probably supposed to be reassuring but, in Duck’s opinion, fell a little short of the mark. “I did redesign a great deal of the Cryptonomica, after all. Really made those exhibits pop! The future of your home is safe in my hands, friend Indrid.”

                “Given the number of potential outcomes where you put several holes in my walls, we may have to revisit that statement later.” Indrid shook his head. “Nevertheless, I should thank you for agreeing to help with this.”

                “I should be thanking you for giving me the experience!” Ned rubbed his hands together again. “I’ve been thinking about taking a few interior decorating jobs on the side, just making a little extra cash. The Cryptonomica is all about experiences, after all, and what experiences are more important than the ones you have in the warmth and comfort of your own home? Made warm and comforting for a very reasonable fee.”

                “All right, this is gettin’ both borderline sappy and to where it’s making me wanna tear my hair out, so I think it’s time we skedaddle.” Duck turned to Indrid, not missing the way the man’s hands tightened on his bag. “Ready to go?”

                  Indrid didn’t respond for a moment, standing there wrapped in a heavy coat and clutching his duffel, and Duck was unnerved to find a tense silence falling over the room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ned open his mouth and then shut it again. The cuffs of Duck’s coat sleeves were worn from years of use, and he rubbed at the frayed fabric nervously. Had he not been persuasive enough last night? Damn it all, he’d gotten himself invested in this, and if Indrid backed out he thought he might actually be kind of disappointed because the dude really needed to get his life on track –

                An exhale, and a grin just a little too wide. “Yes, I...believe I am.” Indrid gestured to the door. “Shall we?”

                They made their way out to Duck’s car, feet crunching in the snow. Despite the short walk Indrid was already shivering, and Duck wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or because the poor guy was just really shook up. Ned waved to them from the doorway of the Winnebago, and Duck distinctly heard him say something about a power saw as they got into the car. Silently hoping that the RV would still be standing when Ned was done with it, Duck turned the heat up high and looked over at Indrid. The other man fumbled with the seat belt for a few moments, finally clicking it into place, and then looked back at his home and took a deep breath.

                Duck cleared his throat. “You good?”

He only got a tight nod by way of an answer, so he turned the heat up a little more and started the drive back into town.

                Although the festive season was nearing its end, there were still plenty of Christmas lights up in Kepler, and as the sun began to sink below the horizon Duck found himself making a mental map of houses he wanted to drive by again once it was properly dark. Not tonight, though – he glanced over at his unusually quiet passenger and saw him staring out the window, his posture tense as he watched the buildings go by.

                “I’ve seen this all before,” he said softly, just as Duck was wondering if he should speak up himself. “When I first came to Kepler, although some things have changed since then, and in my visions.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen the whole town through my powers, but seeing it now in person, it’s....different.”

                “What do you think of it?” Duck asked, suddenly finding it desperately important to know.

                “It’s bright,” Indrid said after a moment. “Busy. Loud. It’s...” He seemed to be struggling to find the words. “Somewhat intimidating. But I find myself intrigued all the same.” He turned, and Duck found himself facing his own reflection in those red lenses. “It’s like when you see a celebrity in person for the first time, after only ever seeing them on the television. Exciting, and overwhelming, and sometimes a little unsettling all at the same time, like some part of your brain suddenly has to confront that they’re a part of the real world – that you’re part of the same world, together.”

                Duck couldn’t help it. “Like when you turned Billy into Ryan Gosling?”

                Indrid snorted a second before he said the last two words, and Duck laughed along with him. “That certainly gave me the same – the same sort of vibe, yes. Although I think if the real Ryan Gosling was in my living room I would be considerably more shook.”

                Duck almost ran a red light. “Did you just say _shook?_ ”

                Indrid frowned. “Did I use it wrong? Aubrey said – ”

                “Aubrey’s fuckin’ teaching slang to – ” He almost said _the mothman_ , but caught himself. “Damn, alright. Guess you’re more caught up with modern culture than you thought.”

                “I guess so.” Indrid sounded slightly suspicious, but he settled back into his seat and continued watching the scenery go by.

                “Are you – ”

                “ – warm enough? Yes, thank you.”

                There was silence as they drove another block. “So,” Duck said, “your powers work by seeing all the different possibilities, right? And when you predict conversations, you do it based on the probability that the person’ll say what you think they’re gonna say, right?”

                “Yes.” Indrid quirked an eyebrow over his glasses.

                “But even if there’s a high probability there’s still, like, a tiny chance that they won’t say what you think they will, right? So do you ever fuck it up, like someone says ‘Looks like it’s gonna rain, I better bring my – ’ and then they say ‘umbrella’ but you say, like, ‘piano’ or some shit?” There was no reply, and he glanced back over. “Does that ever – ”

                “ – rutabaga?” An innocent smile.

                “....You’re messin’ with me, arent’cha?”

__________________________

 

                When they finally got to his apartment, Duck locked the door behind them and immediately turned up the heat. Indrid had fallen quiet again for the last part of the ride, and now he stood by the doorway shivering and looking lost.

                “ **I’ll take your coat** ,” Duck said, frowning at the parroting as he remembered what Indrid had said about processing input. He gestured towards the couch, secretly worrying at how pale and tired the other man looked. “I got out a bunch of blankets, if you wanna **sit under ’em** until you warm up. Or, uh, if you don’t, **that’s cool too**.” Damn, he hadn’t had guests in a while – when he hung out with Juno they usually went out for coffee or something, and he wasn’t used to playing host. Indrid, however, didn’t seem to notice; he slid off his coat and huddled in a corner of the couch, wrapping the blankets around himself. His posture was hunched and rigid, and he stared into space and didn’t say a word. Feeling a pang of sympathy, Duck hung up their coats and slipped quietly into the kitchen. If Indrid really hadn’t left the Eastwoods Campground for the last ten years, it made sense that he might get overwhelmed from just a car ride through town. And as much as Duck hadn’t had visitors recently, Indrid obviously hadn’t been a guest in someone else’s home for even longer. There was, Duck reasoned, only one thing to do.

                He returned to the living room with a mug in one hand and Daisy tucked under his arm, and sat down on the other end of the couch. “Nog and a cat,” he said as Indrid turned to look at him. “Nothin’ better to calm a guy down, eh?”

                Indrid cracked a smile at that and accepted the mug of eggnog, sipping at it and tentatively holding out a hand to Daisy. She sniffed him and pushed her face against his fingers.

                “Ah, look that,” Duck said as Indrid’s smile grew wider. “She’s claimed you now, there’s no going back. Soon you’ll be waitin’ on her hand and foot.”

                They sat in silence for a few moments as Indrid drank his nog and Daisy curled up in his lap, and Duck couldn’t help but feel something warm and satisfied grow in his chest. Minnie was right – he really did have some kinda protective streak. But hey, wouldn’t anybody be happy to see their friend safe and warm on their couch, gettin’ more color in his face by the second?

                “I’m sorry.” Indrid finally spoke, his voice quiet. “I – a man was going to slip on ice, and there were so many cars that could have crashed, and everything was – even in the present, there was so much happening – ”

                “I get it,” Duck said. “It’s okay, I ain’t judging.”

                “I should have more discipline,” Indrid muttered, rubbing absentmindedly behind Daisy’s ears. “I’ve gotten out of practice. What my teachers in Sylvain would say, if they saw me letting my visions run away with me...”

                “Hey, now, it’s not your fault.” Duck suddenly wanted to track down any teacher that had ever scolded Indrid and give them what for. “Anybody’d get overwhelmed in a new situation like this, even without any powers. And hell, that’s half the point of this, gettin’ you used to new situations.” He put a hand on Indrid’s shoulder and was glad to find that he didn’t flinch away – if anything, he leaned into it. “It ain’t gonna happen overnight, and that’s okay.”

                “Thank you.” Most of the tension seemed to have faded from Indrid’s body, and he took a deep breath and another sip of eggnog. “I really do appreciate all of this, Duck, even though – well, I think it’s going to be hard. But I suppose growth is like that sometimes.” He looked directly at Duck, that smile finally creeping back on his face again. “And I trust you, Duck. I don’t need to rely on a vision to know you’ll do your best to help me.”

                “’Course I will, buddy.” Duck grinned back, trying to ignore the warmth in his face. He was a grown-ass man, he didn’t need to blush at a dang compliment. “You’re safe with me, it’s just boring bachelor town at Casa Duck. Ain’t nothing freaky gonna happen around here.”

                “DUCK NEWTON!” Duck jumped so violently he damn near pulled a muscle, and Indrid jolted and splashed eggnog across his top layer of blankets, much to Daisy’s displeasure.

                “Dammit,” Duck sighed, turning to face the spectral form of his mentor. “Kinda in the middle of something, Minnie.”

                Minerva’s head reared back as though in surprise. “DUCK NEWTON!” she exclaimed again. “I HAVE COME FOR OUR TRAINING SESSION, BUT I WOULD NOT WISH TO INTERRUPT A PRIVATE MOMENT!”

                “A what?”

                “YOU SPEND A LOT OF TIME ALONE, DUCK NEWTON! IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU FORMING INTERPERSONAL BONDS, AS THEY WILL ONLY MAKE YOU STRONGER!” She peered down at Indrid, who stared back with his mouth slightly open. “DUCK NEWTON, HAVE YOU FOUND A ROMANTIC COMPANION?”

                Duck spluttered. “Have I – nah, nah, hang on – wait. Hang the actual fuck on.” He turned to Indrid. “Can you _see_ her?”

                “The glowing blue person in your living room? _Yes_ , Duck!”

                 From the angle he was sitting at, Duck could see Indrid blinking rapidly behind his glasses, and he pushed down a sudden urge to try to get a peek at his eye color. “How the hell – well, damn, this is, uh, this is Minerva – Minnie, this is my buddy Indrid Cold.”

                “ _Oh_ ,” Indrid said, like he was realizing something, but before he could get much farther Minerva put her hands on her hips and cocked her head at him.

                 “I AM PLEASED TO MEET A CONFIDANT OF MY PROTÉGÉ!” she proclaimed. “YOU MUST BE SPECIAL INDEED IF YOU ARE ABLE TO PERCIEVE ME! TELL ME, INDRID COLD, ARE YOU PREPARED TO SUPPORT DUCK NEWTON THROUGH HIS HEROIC DESTINY? BE WARNED, IF YOU CAUSE HIM EMOTIONAL DISTRESS IT WILL HAVE DIRE CONSEQUENCES.”

                 Duck had never in his life been more fucking mortified, not even when Jane told Juno how he thought he could talk to raccoons when he was little. “Minerva, are you fuckin’ – are you giving him the _shovel talk_?”

                 She turned her featureless face towards him, the tilt of her head seeming more confused now. “I DO NOT KNOW THAT PHRASE, DUCK NEWTON! I HAVE NO SHOVELS BUT I HAVE A VERY SHARP SWORD, AND IF YOUR CHOSEN SUITOR FAILS TO – ”

                “Yeah, wow, okay, I’m gonna stop you right there, for the love of god.” Duck ran a hand over his face. “We’re not – this isn’t – Jesus Christ, you don’t need to threaten him. He’s just a friend who’s staying with me right now, and he’s had kind of a long day so I should probably make him some dinner or somethin’ – aw shit, that sounds worse, but you know what I mean, he’s just a dude. Well, not just a dude, but – listen, he’s real tired, and I ain’t got time to train today, sorry.”

                 Minerva stared at him for a full three seconds before she laughed, actually laughed out loud right at him, what the _fuck_ , Minnie. “THERE IS THAT PROTECTIVE STREAK, DUCK NEWTON.” And, before he could protest: “WE WILL TRAIN TOMORROW NIGHT, BUT I WILL NOT GO EASY ON YOU.” And then Duck was alone in his apartment with a cat and a very bewildered mothman who looked like he’d just gone down a rollercoaster and his brain hadn’t caught up with his body yet.

                “So,” Duck said, rubbing at the back of his head. “That was, uh – ”

                “Your mentor,” Indrid finished, blinking again. “Well. I knew she existed – I had some indications of her in my visions – but I never...well, I didn’t know she was like that.”

                Duck snorted. “Yeah, she can be, uh, robust. Sorry about all the, uh, romantic companion stuff, I got no idea where she was gettin’ that from.” There was that damn blush again, what was wrong with him? “Hey, how come you could see her? Is that a Sylvan thing, or just, like, a seer thing? ’Cause usually it’s just me, but I guess she’s never showed up with a Sylvan nearby, so I dunno.”

                “Hmm.” Indrid stretched a hand out to Daisy, who was hiding under the table. “Honestly, I’m not sure. My powers are limited to seeing the future, but I suppose it’s possible there could be...side effects? Perks, if you want to call it that?” He smiled as Daisy jumped begrudgingly back onto the couch. “Perhaps we can discuss it with her when she returns.”

                “Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way, she always comes at the same time every night, and I guess I just...forgot. Woulda warned you.”

                Indrid looked uncomfortable. “Duck, I know I’ve mentioned it already, but...thank you for letting me intrude into your life like this. I don’t want to interfere with your routine or anything – ”

                “Nah, nah, listen.” Duck shook his head, giving Daisy a reassuring scratch behind the ears. “It was my idea in the first place – well, actually, it was Aubrey’s, but I agreed to it. I asked you over ’cause I wanna help you, and I don’t mind having to change things up a bit.” He grinned. “Might be good for me too, keep me from staying up late eating Cheetos in my underwear.”

                “Do you....do that often?”

                “Just an example.” Indrid was smirking at him. “Look, not all the time, okay?” Duck stood up and stretched, rubbing at the kink he’d gotten in his neck when Minerva scared the daylights out of him. “I meant what I said about dinner. You want anything in particular? I can't cook nothin' fancy, but I got pasta, and taco fixin’s, and I could probably whip up a salad.”

                Indrid hesitated. “Whatever you think is best,” he said finally.

                “Pasta, I guess.” Duck studied him closely – he looked all tired and lost again. “You doin’ all right?”

                “Of course.” Indrid straightened his glasses. “Just...wondering if Ned has destroyed my Winnebago yet.”

                Duck laughed. “With all that money you gave him, I guess he at least can afford to get you some nice stuff.” _As long as he spends it on you instead of squirrelin’ it away for himself._ “Real high-end, uh, wall art and shit.” He was halfway to the kitchen before something occurred to him. “Hey, where’d you get all that cash, anyway? Do you even have a job?”

                “Hm?” Indrid looked up from carefully cuddling Daisy over his shoulder. “Oh, I brought some Sylvan rocks with me when I came to Earth. Fairly common at home, but your people seem to like them.”

                Duck scratched his head. “What kinda rocks we talkin’ here?”

                “Oh, you know. Crystals, emeralds, gold – that sort of thing. I was told to sell them at one of your stores. I was skeptical, but they did give me quite a bit of money.” He shrugged. “I’ve still got some of those little red stones left in case I run out, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.” He glanced up at Duck, who was staring at him. “What?”

                “Indrid,” Duck said, managing to find his voice after a moment. “You’re fuckin’ rich, my dude.”

                “Huh. I suppose I am.”

                Shaking his head, Duck retreated into the kitchen. Dude had rubies stowed away somewhere and he lived off nog and Hot Pockets! Chuckling to himself, Duck reached for a box of pasta. He got the feeling that having Indrid around was never going to be boring.

                ...Speaking of rubies, he should probably find out where they were before Ned got wind of them.

 

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite all the years he rejected her, Minerva's basically known Duck since he was a dumb teen and I like the idea of her having a sort of motherly pride in him. 
> 
> Also, when I picture Daisy I for some reason think of Daisy sour cream, so I guess she's white with some gray on her face, because, you know. That makes sense, brain. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! You can find me at one-more-miracle-gatsby.tumblr.com


	3. Setbacks and Steps Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while, but this is a longer chapter! Warning: The first part contains discussion of nausea, and after Barclay talks about soup, there is description of death by fire, negative self-talk, sensory overload. We're hopping on the angst train with this one, folks.

 

               Duck woke up at an ungodly hour to a familiar – and unwelcome – grating voice.

              “Duck Newton,” Beacon hissed. “ _Duck Newton_ , awaken, you lazy – ”

              “Dammit, Beacon, I’m up,” Duck muttered, propping himself on an elbow and rubbing his face. With having Indrid over and all, he must’ve gotten off his routine and left his sword on the nightstand. He squinted at his clock, dismayed to find that it was only three AM. Adrenaline sent ice through his veins, instantly making him alert. Duck sat up, listening intently. “Is there some kinda danger?” he whispered, trying to figure out what had made Beacon wake him.

              Beacon gave a long-suffering sigh. “Duck Newton, your companion is in distress.”

              “Huh?” Bewildered, Duck sat in silence for a moment, and was rewarded with the sound of a whimper coming from his living room.

              _Indrid._

Duck leaped out of bed, seizing Beacon, and rushed out of his room to confront whatever was attacking his houseguest. He tripped on the rug, almost ate shit but steadied himself in time, and looked frantically around for the intruder. There was no abomination. No Agent Stern. No cryptid hunters toting guns and giant nets. There was only the shadowy figure of Indrid, huddled in a chair at the kitchen island with his arms wrapped around himself. And Daisy, of course, sitting on the island and looking very bemused by the whole situation.

              Lowering Beacon with a sigh of relief, Duck stepped forward and turned on the kitchen light. Indrid flinched, and Duck blinked in the sudden brightness and took a good look at him. Every curse he had been about to aim at Beacon for wasting his time suddenly evaporated. Indrid looked paler than usual, his wiry body trembling, and as Duck watched he wrapped his arms around his stomach again and let out another small whine.

              “Whoa, hey.” Duck hurried over and set Beacon down, hesitantly putting a hand on Indrid’s shoulder. “What’s going on, man?”

              “Sorry,” Indrid muttered. “I – you’re going to be tired in the morning – ”

              “Don’t worry about that, here on Earth we got this magical thing called coffee.” The joke fell flat, Indrid only letting out a short breath before hugging himself more tightly. Duck hovered anxiously, trying to read the tense expression on the other man’s face. “Are you okay? You look like you’re in pain. Are you sick? We could, fuck, we could call Barclay or somethin’ – ”

              “No.” Indrid breathed out slowly. “I – I suppose I am sick, but I’ll be all right.”

              “What do you mean?” Duck sat down in the other chair, looking at him closely. “Don’t hold out on me, buddy, remember what we said earlier? I’m here to help.”

              “Yes. Of course.” Indrid took a slow breath. “You’re going to feel guilty no matter how I say it. I – my body was not prepared for...deviating from my regular diet.” He swallowed. “As you may know, I’ve eaten almost exclusively eggnog and – and Hot Pockets for several years.”

              “Oh, shit,” Duck said, and of course Indrid was right, there was that guilt. “I made you that pasta last night with all the veggies, and the shitty garlic bread – ”

              “I enjoyed the garlic bread,” Indrid said, “But yes, and the ice cream afterwards. I do appreciate it, you understand, but my stomach is...objecting.”

              “Does it hurt?” Duck asked anxiously. Fucking hell, he’d wanted to give the poor guy something mildly healthy for a change, not make him sick.

              “Just a little.” Indrid cleared his throat. “I’m...mostly trying not to vomit all over your kitchen. Hence the trash can.” He kicked it lightly where it was sitting by his feet.

              Duck nudged it a little closer. “What’s, uh, what’s the probability of that?”

              He got a queasy chuckle in response. “It seems about 50-50, but I’d rather not examine those futures too closely.”

              “Right, I can see that.” Duck drummed his fingers on the island. “I’m trying to think what’s good for nausea...I think you’re supposed to take deep breaths? And, uh, you probably shouldn’t be hunched over like that.” He racked his brains, watching Indrid obediently adjust his posture. Damn, had first aid training covered nausea? Heatstroke caused it, but this wasn’t a wilderness rescue situation, he needed, like, a home remedy –

              Indrid really must’ve been avoiding looking at the future, because he jumped when Duck leaped up and yelled, “Got it! Shit, sorry, I just remembered – ” He put a mug of water in the microwave and started digging through his cabinets, swearing under his breath until he found a packet of Jane’s favorite ginger tea. He dipped the bag in until the tea seemed strong, then set it in front of Indrid. “Supposed to help,” he explained. “You might wanna drink it slowly, though.”

              They sat in silence for a few moments as Indrid sipped tentatively at the tea, Daisy purring quietly until she curled up and fell asleep. “I believe it’s helping,” Indrid said finally. “The number of...undesirable futures seem to have diminished, from what I dare to look at.”

              “That’s good.” Duck exhaled. He didn’t want Indrid to suffer, of course, but he also didn’t really want to clean up puke at three AM. “Again, I’m real sorry, I shoulda thought – ”

              “No, no, this one’s on me.” Indrid stared down into his tea, apparently undisturbed by the steam fogging his glasses. “I should have foreseen it.”

              “Hey now, it ain’t your fault!” Duck shook his head. “Hell, we could go back and forth like this forever. How about we say it’s nobody’s fault, it’s just a thing that happened, and go with that? Otherwise I think we’ll be blamin’ ourselves all night.”

              Indrid didn’t answer. And then: “Barclay’s going to come over.”

              Duck blinked. “Yeah, at like, noon. Why, do you see – oh, hell. He’s supposed to teach you to cook a buncha different things, isn’t he? And now we know you might have trouble eatin’ them – ”

              “I don’t want to waste his time.” Indrid’s glasses were completely fogged by now, but he didn’t lift his head. “I....I should have known I wasn’t going to be able to do this.”

              “All right, now that’s just bullshit.” Duck got up and put a hand on Indrid’s shoulder. Just like the day before, the other man leaned into it almost automatically. “You knew this might not be easy, sure, but you can’t give up at one little setback. I’m sure you’ll get used to different foods real soon, and in the meantime, we can work with it. I’ll call Barclay in the morning and we can make a plan, how about that? We’ll work somethin’ out, I promise.”

              Indrid finally moved to wipe the steam off his glasses, taking care not to jostle them. “You’re going to be tired if you don’t go back to bed soon,” he said quietly. “You should get some sleep.”

              Duck hesitated. “I feel bad just leaving you alone like this.”

              “The tea is already helping.” Indrid gave him a smile that only seemed slightly forced. “Go to bed, Duck.”

              “Well, all right. But wake me up if you need somethin’.” Picking up Beacon, Duck headed back down the hall to his room. He paused in the doorway to look back at Indrid, sitting at the island in an oasis of light. “Would you feel better if you were, uh, in your...natural form?”

              He didn’t miss the surprised quirk of Indrid’s lips. “Perhaps,” the man said after a long moment, “But despite how fast the transformation process is, I think I’d rather not risk changing my organs around at the moment.”

              “Well, that’s a concept I did not need to think about at this time a’ night.” Duck scratched his head. “How does it even  – all right, it’s too late for that kinda weird shit, Indrid, c’mon now.”

              That got a small chuckle. “I’ll try to keep my weird magic shit to the daylight hours.” Indrid cleared his throat. “However, I... appreciate the thought.”

              There was an unspoken thanks there, and Duck acknowledged it with a nod. Padding into his room, he left the door open a crack and set Beacon back on the nightstand, climbing into bed with a sigh. He stared up at the dark ceiling for a moment, then said, “Hey, Beacon? Thanks for waking me up.”

              “Yes, well, no thanks to you for putting me right where I could have been... _puked_ on. Rest assured you would have been polishing me for weeks, Duck Newton!” Beacon’s voice turned sly. “You’re lucky you managed to assist your _chosen suitor_.”

              Duck turned onto his side. “I’m sorry, my what?!”

              “You do seem protective of your _romantic companion -_ ”

              “Were you listening to Minerva?” Duck glared at him. “Lower your voice, for fuck’s sake!”

              The sword seemed to be enjoying himself. “We wouldn’t want to disturb your _paramour,_ your _main squeeze_ – ”

              “Good _night_ , Beacon.” Duck rolled over and jammed his pillow over his ears to the sound of metallic laughter.

__________________________

              The morning came with a flurry of “How are you feeling?” and “Are you sure?” Despite his seer abilities, Indrid nearly found it a miracle that he could persuade Duck to leave for work on time. Promising once again that he felt fine and would call if he needed something, he waved goodbye and watched as Duck hurried out the door. It swung shut with a click, and the ensuing silence was both a relief and oddly disappointing.

              Daisy solved that particular conundrum by leaping onto the couch with a loud meow, and Indrid looked at her in amusement. “You’re not used to having company during the day, are you? Carry on as usual, I’ll try to not to interfere.” He chuckled as she meowed again and sat down to wash her front paw. With the exception of an injured bird he’d nursed back to health last spring, Indrid hadn’t interacted with an animal in a long time. He was surprised at how much less alone it made him feel.

              Leaving the cat to her washing, he sat back and looked around Duck’s apartment. He’d already seen all the model ships, and found himself smiling at the image of Duck piecing each one together with the gentleness and patience he exhibited in so much of his life. The walls, meanwhile, were covered with pictures, and Indrid rose to look a few of them over again. Some were of Duck and his sister, some of Juno or other friends, but a good many of them were simply photographs of the Monongahela or of Kepler itself. Indrid recognized a particular shot from high on the mountain that showed the sun setting over the forest and the lights of Kepler twinkling peacefully below. He himself had drawn something similar, although in that picture a nightmarish storm had been raging through the trees on its way to destroy the town. He much preferred this version, and he couldn’t help but note that while the walls of his home were covered in images of Kepler and the surrounding forest that often heralded potential disaster, the pictures on Duck’s walls showed only his love for the place – and presumably his hope for its safe future.

            Indrid Cold, for obvious reasons, was not a man who was easily surprised. That was why he found himself startled not only by Duck’s phone ringing, but also by the realization that he had been too lost in thought to foresee it. A quick glance at the future showed that it was only Ned, and Indrid tried to quell the anxiety that had spiked through him as he picked up the receiver.

          “I hope you’re not calling to say you’ve flooded my Winnebago.”

         “Of course not! Don’t you trust me, friend Indrid?” Ned hesitated. “Just, uh, out of curiosity, what are the chances of that happening?”

          “I’d almost rather not know,” Indrid replied smoothly. “Besides, you told me ‘no peeking,’ remember?”

          “That’s exactly right! There’s no fun in spoiling the surprise for yourself!” There was a small crash in the background. “Ignore that, nothing to worry about. Do you know if Duck might have any golf balls lying around? Say, about fifty or so?” 

         “Golf balls?” Indrid stopped wondering if his television was still intact and cast his mind forward, searching for a future where Duck might play golf or at least admit to owning such objects. “Not that I’m aware of. Dare I ask why?”

         “Ah now, what did I just say about spoiling the surprise?” Ned blew out a breath, and then his bravado returned. “Well, it doesn’t matter, I’m sure I’ll find some. They can be real collector’s items, ya know? Signed by the pros. Ask Barclay when he comes over, will ya?”

        “Certainly. But – ” Indrid winced as there was another crash, and Ned swore.

        “Nothing to worry about, but I might as well get going, no time for pleasantries – ”

        The line went dead, and Indrid replaced the phone in its cradle and found himself alone in the silence once more. He drummed his fingers on his leg and slowly moved back to the couch, pulling a blanket over himself. He hadn’t been in another person’s house in decades, and certainly not alone. It was awkward. It was slightly overwhelming. But it was Duck’s house, and every picture on the wall and book on the shelf reminded Indrid of the man himself, and that somehow was a comfort. It seemed to be a day of paradoxes, then. Indrid reached out to rub Daisy’s ears, and found himself smiling.

        He almost forgot to be nervous about Barclay.

__________________________

              There was a knock on the door at 12:02, more or less when he expected it – some light traffic had made it tricky to predict down to the minute. Indrid checked through the peephole even though his visions had already told him it was Barclay with an armful of groceries, and then he took a deep breath and opened the door.

              “Hello, Barclay,” he said, hoping that initiating the conversation would help him control his powers. He stepped aside. “Please come in.”

              “Uh, thanks.” Barclay entered and shifted the bags around awkwardly as Indrid closed the door and made sure it was locked. “I’m gonna put these in the kitchen.”

              “Don’t trip on the cat,” Indrid said automatically as Daisy wandered over to investigate. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Barclay successfully navigated around her and set the bags on the counter.

             Barclay pushed his hair out of his eyes and held out a large hand. “So, uh, we met a long time ago but, yeah, I’m Barclay. Good to see you again.”

           “Indrid.” Indrid shook hands, quietly marveling that this was the first other Sylvan he’d spoken to in many years – and the most recent, come to think of it. “It’s very kind of you to help with all of this.” As he said the words, his stomach gave an unpleasant swoop. Barclay cooked for Amnesty Lodge and was part of the Pine Guard; he must be incredibly busy, and here he was planning to teach Indrid to cook when he might not even be able to eat the recipes without becoming ill. Barclay saw other Sylvans every day, and _they_ appreciated his food. What if Indrid had been isolated for so long that he was out of the loop on Sylvan culture? What if he didn’t seem like a real Sylvan anymore? Would Barclay –

        “No problem, I don’t mind helping a guy out. **Besides, I feel kinda –”** Barclay stopped, looking startled, and Indrid grit his teeth.

 _Get a grip on yourself, Cold._ Indrid forced a smile. “My apologies. I – I’m a seer, you know.” Did he know? Indrid didn’t trust his control right now to look forward and find out. “Conversation can be difficult, because I often know what people are going to say. I do try not predict it out loud, I’m sorry for – for my lapse, there.”

          Barclay, to his credit, smiled back. “Oh yeah, I remember – you were the Court Seer. That’s a neat trick. I, uh, don’t mind. No apology necessary.” He cleared his throat. “I was gonna say, I kinda feel bad that I didn’t know you were still living in Kepler. I woulda invited you to the Lodge if I knew, so…that’s an apology on my part.” He rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to the grocery bags. “So, you probably know Duck called me this morning and said you had some trouble getting used to different foods. He said you usually go for eggnog and ham and cheese Hot Pockets – is that right?” At Indrid’s nod, he continued. “I figured **it’d be easier if**  - no, it’s okay – it’d be easier if we made stuff that has most of the same ingredients, and maybe we could try a recipe that’s a little more out there, in case you wanna make it once your diet, uh, gets a little more flexible.” He shrugged a little awkwardly. “I know you’re kinda up in the air about coming to the Candlenights dinner, but if you like what we make you could bring one of those. Say, **what’s Duck making?”**

 _A seer observes without emotion. That means stop losing your shit, Cold._ Indrid conjured up another smile, trying to appear unbothered by the invitation looming over his head. “To tell you the truth, I think he’s forgotten about it. I’ll have to remind him.”

         Barclay laughed. “Well, it’s no big deal – I’ll be cooking a bunch of stuff for it anyway. So should we get started?”

__________________________

 

           Indrid quickly learned that a cat will, in fact, try to walk across and inspect any food on a flat surface, and Daisy was temporarily banished to Duck’s bedroom after she almost stepped on a hot baking pan. He and Barclay fell into a comfortable rhythm of chopping vegetables and cracking eggs, and Indrid allowed himself to relax as he listened to Barclay go from explaining the recipe to telling funny stories about life at Amnesty Lodge. He had already known several, but some – including the one about Duck and an angry opossum – hadn’t made it onto his radar, and he found that he was enjoying himself. There was a lull as they put the first dish into the oven, and Indrid wiped down the counter as Barclay began assembling the next ingredients.

         “What was it like being in the Court?” Barclay asked suddenly.

         Indrid stopped with his sponge in midair. “What do you mean?”

         Barclay deposited a head of broccoli on the counter. “I mean, I’m pretty sure we both lived in Sylvain at the same time, and I think I remember seeing you at the Candlenights celebration one year. You came out on the balcony and said you foresaw a prosperous spring ahead?” He shrugged. “I always thought it must be pretty cool, living in the Court and getting to speak at the parades and stuff. Maybe I’m a little idealistic, but hey.”

        He was expecting an answer. Indrid exhaled and began scrubbing at a stain on the countertop. “It was very educational. I was trained by the former Seer, who of course was one of the best in history, and other magic users who had some knowledge of the art without having it as a natural ability.”

       Barclay hummed. “Yeah, seers are rare, aren’t they?” 

      “Yes.” The stain was gone, but Indrid kept scrubbing anyway. “I always had my powers, of course, but the training allowed me to refine and control them so that they could be truly useful.”

      “Cool.” The smell of cheese started to fill the air, and Barclay peeked into the oven although Indrid could have told him nothing was burning. “Hey, uh, can I ask – why’d you stay on Earth?”

       Indrid’s sponge fell still. “What?”

       Barclay turned to face him, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. “Sorry if it’s too personal. Just, I remember – they said you were gonna visit Earth because you needed to learn more about it so you could predict Sylvain’s future properly. But then you never came back, and everyone thought you died.” He chuckled a little. “I was real surprised that one time I met you, when Mama and I first got to Kepler. I recognized your name and thought, I’ll be damned, it’s him! Obviously you didn’t get killed by humans, so I was just…wonderin’ what happened.”

       Indrid took a slow breath. _Like questions from reporters, or cryptid hunters. Deflect._ “What about you?” He turned to Barclay, trying to look interested. “You came to Earth as well, probably shortly after I did, yes? Why did you stay?”

      He regretted it immediately, as Barclay truly looked uncomfortable now. “Guess I shouldn’t be nosing around askin’ questions I wouldn’t wanna answer myself,” he muttered, scratching his beard. “Yeah, I, uh – it wasn’t so much a choice to stay as, I sort of had to?” He shook his head. “I’d rather not go into detail – I’m kinda bein’ a hypocrite here, but…”

      “No, it’s all right.” Indrid tossed the sponge in the sink and went to check the oven as well, just for something to do. “We don’t have to discuss it.”

      “Right.” Barclay clapped his hands together and took a pot from one of Duck’s cabinets. “Why don’t we get started on some soup? I was thinking this would be – ”

      The rest of his sentence was lost to Indrid, because it was being spoken in the present. And at that moment, Indrid’s attention was suddenly fixated on the future.

      Multiple futures, to be precise, all of them slightly different and arrived at in marginally varying ways, but all with a common theme.

      There was fire, the Monongahela gone up in flames, and the air was so thick with smoke that Indrid couldn’t tell the time of day. People were choking, or burning, or screaming, and as Indrid watched in horror, abominations made of the very fire itself came crackling through Kepler to seize them and char their flesh to the bone. In some futures, the fire started in different places; in some futures, the fire department fought back, while in others the tires of the engines were melted to the ground. And in all of the futures, in every single image that filled Indrid’s mind amidst the screaming and the smell of burning hair, Duck Newton threw himself into the heart of the chaos and died in a dozen different ways, trying to save a dozen different people from cars, or houses, or towering beings of flame.

      Indrid wasn’t aware he was on the floor until the cold of the tiles crept into his palms, forming such a jarring contrast to the heat of his visions that he jerked back to the present in surprise.

       He was kneeling in Duck’s kitchen, his hands braced on the floor in front of him, and Barclay was kneeling next to him and looking very concerned.

     “Paper,” Indrid choked out, before the other man could speak. “Pencil.”

 **“What?** **I – fuck, okay.”** Barclay jumped up and returned with Indrid’s sketchbook. Indrid seized it, noticing with a distant sort of disdain that his hands were shaking. He nearly broke the spiral tearing his pencil from where he had tucked it, and as soon as he could find a fresh page he began drawing. He was faintly aware of Barclay next to him again, of Barclay saying things and himself parroting them along with him, but the majority of his energy was focused on getting the images out of his head. He had to preserve them, had to draw them before he forgot, had to get them down on paper so he _could_ forget, and wouldn’t have to try to remember – wouldn’t have to remember Duck –

       By the time he finished the last drawing he knew Barclay had given up talking because the clamor in his head had lessened somewhat. He was dismayed to find that his pencil was still moving; that was right, his hands had been shaking. He hoped his pictures were still accurate.

 **“Indrid?”** Barclay’s voice was quiet, but Indrid still flinched slightly as felt his mind zero in and begin trying to predict Barclay’s next words, his next sentence, his next move – squeezing his eyes shut, he let his sketchbook fall to the floor and clamped his hands instinctively over his ears, feeling like an untrained child again. _Get ahold of yourself, Cold._ He couldn’t let his powers run rampant like this, not when he had to warn Duck. His face was wet. Was he crying? He couldn’t let himself get upset about the visions, he had to warn Duck. He had to warn – dammit, he should be better than this, he shouldn’t be so afraid –

 _A seer observes without judgement. A seer observes without emotion._ He shouldn’t be crying. _A seer’s only job is to analyze and report._ He was trained better than this. _A seer does not pick sides._ His mouth was moving. Was he speaking out loud? He couldn’t lose his composure in front of the public –

      Something smelled like ham and cheese, and it was so unlike smoke, so unlike the perfumed halls of the Court, that it caught his attention. Gradually he became aware of the cool, solid floor beneath him, and he loosened his hands from his aching ears and listened. There was a whispered curse, and the beep of a button being pressed, and then the quiet metallic sounds of an oven door opening. The soft clunk of a dish being placed on a counter, and the ka-chunk of the door closing.

       Indrid opened his eyes, blinking in the warm light of Duck Newton’s kitchen, and lifted his head. Barclay was taking off a pair of oven mitts, and his eyes widened when he saw Indrid looking at him. “Can I talk?” he whispered. Receiving a nod, he said, louder, “Sorry, I figured out I was maybe makin’ it worse tryin’ to talk to ya – I didn’t realize at first – and then I tried to be quiet but I saw the oven timer was gonna go off, and I figured that would be bad so I took the food out but I hope I didn’t make too much noise. Are you okay?” 

      Indrid took a steadying breath and forced himself to stand, wincing at the pain in his knees. He picked his sketchbook up off the ground and flipped it closed without looking. “Yes. I…I should be the one apologizing. I, well…” He laughed, even though he could find nothing funny; it just seemed the sort of normal thing someone would do. “You wanted to know what it was like being the Court Seer?”

       Barclay’s mouth drew itself into a tight line. “You had a vision, didn’t you? When you started drawing, I thought maybe that was it.” His eyes flicked to the sketchbook, and then away again. “It…looked bad.”

       This was the part where Indrid should reassure him. This was where he should offer a noncommittal smile, say that it wasn’t up to him to determine the impact of a potential future or what actions could be taken, and therefore there was no reason to worry. This was where he should say that fate would do what it willed, and there was no reason for either of them to be concerned.

      “It was terrible.” Indrid tossed the sketchbook onto the island and leaned on the counter for support. “But it was…” He took another breath. “It was far in the future. And knowing Duck – knowing the Pine Guard, I…I think I like our chances.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t all a lie, either. Duck and his friends had surprised Indrid with their ability to defy fate several times. And Indrid Cold was not a man who was easily surprised.

       He sat in the kitchen with a liberated Daisy in his lap and watched as Barclay prepared the soup, explaining the steps to him. It was funny, Indrid mused; he’d gone from having his meals cooked for him at the Sylvan Court, to making his own haphazard forays into human cuisine, to settling for the simple wonders of microwaved food. And it had all led him here, to sitting in a friend’s kitchen while one of his fellow Sylvans taught him how to cook properly. A fellow Sylvan that he was beginning to think might also be a friend.

      “You wanted to know why I stayed,” he said, causing Barclay to stop in the middle of chopping fresh basil. “Why I didn’t go back to Sylvain.”

      “Yeah.” Barclay frowned. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

      “There were several reasons,” Indrid said. “But one of the most compelling….” He looked over at the pictures on Duck’s wall, the pictures displaying Kepler and the Monongahela in all of their glory. “The most compelling was that I fell in love with Earth. With her beauty, and her people, no matter how…difficult some of them may cause my life to be.” Tapping the cover of his sketchbook, he looked at Barclay, meeting his eyes. “I stayed to try to use my powers to prevent something like _this_ from ever happening. I gave up on it for a while, but I’ve…recently been reminded how much there is to save. And I’m going to try.”

      Barclay was silent for a moment and then he nodded slowly. “Gotta say, I get real sad about havin’ to leave Sylvain sometimes, but…that’s one of the things that makes me glad to be where I am.” He laughed as Daisy meowed and pawed at Indrid’s face. “Hey, when’s Duck gonna get home? I hope the soup’ll be ready by then.”

      “In half an hour, assuming he doesn’t get caught up helping a tourist with poison ivy.” Indrid scratched behind Daisy’s ears. “Say, you don’t happen to own any golf balls, do you?”

     “Golf balls?” Barclay raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

     Indrid grinned. “I can’t wait to find out.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr at one-more-miracle-gatsby


	4. The Lost Seer, Found

      “When you say he’s a little weird, how much weird are we talking about?” Dani looked over at Aubrey and was not reassured by the considering face the other woman was making,

      “I mean,” Aubrey said slowly, “He’s not, like, might-be-a-serial-killer weird or walk-through-Target-barefoot weird – well, actually, I don’t know about that last one. Maybe you won’t think he’s weird at all, and I just have some kind of human prejudice?” She shrugged. “He pretty much only drinks eggnog, if that tells you anything.”

      “I’m…not sure if it does.” Dani pulled her coat tighter against the cold air and watched as Aubrey finished stowing their helmets on the back of her motorcycle. If she was being honest, her first motorcycle ride had been a little jarring, and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to the trip back to the Lodge – except for the fact that she got to hold onto Aubrey. That part was…nice.

      Aubrey hopped up onto the sidewalk and pointed adventurer-style at the apartment building in front of them. “To Duck’s place!”

      Dani chuckled and followed her up the path, hefting her bag of supplies. Her smile faded as she thought back to their conversation. Indrid Cold had left Sylvain before she was born, but she had always heard the legend of the Seer who had gone through the portal and been killed by humans. The story had flashed through her mind as she stood in Earth’s moonlight in her first moments of banishment: the tale of a man who hadn’t been prepared, who had been weak, hadn’t controlled his powers –  and had paid the price. She had decided, then and there, that she wasn’t going to end up like him. She was going to be smart, and stay away from the bloodthirsty humans, and not let anything or anyone bring her down. Now here she was, about to meet the Lost Seer and do her best to give him a makeover. And the “staying away from humans” thing…she watched Aubrey knock a cheerful rhythm on Duck’s door and couldn’t stop her smile from returning. That seemed to have backfired.

      Dani wasn’t sure what she had expected Seer Cold to look like, but she wasn’t prepared for a gaunt man draped in a Forest Service sweatshirt, and wow, Aubrey hadn’t been kidding about those glasses.

      “Come in, come in! Mind the cat.” Sure enough, a gray-and-white cat bounded over to rub against Aubrey’s legs as they stepped over the threshold. Aubrey scooped her up and turned to the other two.

      “Dani, this is Indrid, and this is Daisy.” She waved the cat’s paw and continued, “Indrid, this is my friend Dani, from the Lodge, you know?  I mean, you probably do, but anyway, this is her.”

     Seer Cold’s smile was just a little too big, and Dani had a moment of thinking _that’s probably why he got caught_ before she remembered that the legends were obviously a little inaccurate. She came out of her thoughts as he reached out a hand, seeming to study her from behind those glasses. “It’s nice to meet you, Dani. Aubrey’s told me a lot about you – all good things, of course.”

      She fought back her blush and shook his hand. “My pleasure, Seer Cold.”

       To her surprise he stiffened a little, pressing his lips together. “Please, call me Indrid. And thank you for coming over, I appreciate your taking the time to help me.”

      “It’s no problem, I’m glad to help out a **friend of Aubrey’s.** ” Aubrey had warned her about the parroting thing, so Dani tried not to react. **“I’m not totally** an expert on hair care, but I’ll do my best.”

      Seer Cold – no, Indrid – had looked slightly embarrassed when he first imitated her words, but she thought he seemed to relax a little as she continued without comment. He clapped his hands together as though trying to move the conversation along. “I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully – certainly better than I could. Shall we get started?”

      “Yeah!” Aubrey let Daisy onto the floor and gestured towards the bathroom. “Let’s get you set up in front of the mirror and Dani can work her magic. Not her actual magic, you know what I mean.”

      “You never know,” Dani teased as they started down the hall. “Maybe Sylphs have secret beauty powers I didn’t tell you about.”

      Aubrey sputtered. “Well, uh, I wouldn’t find that hard to, uh – ” She looked ahead to where Indrid was turning the corner and hung back, lowering her voice. “Hey, uh, not to change the subject, totally not trying to do that, but thanks for being cool about the parroting thing.”

      “Of course.” Dani was imagining her blushing, right? “He’s a seer, it’s understandable. I don’t remember Seer Aphiron doing that, but…” She shrugged. “I guess everyone’s different. But I am still kind of worried about ruining his hair.”

      “Oh, shush.” Aubrey nudged her in the side and started down the hallway again. “You’ll do great.”

__________________________

 _Oh Sylvain_ , Dani thought, twenty minutes later. _I_ am _going to ruin the Lost Seer’s hair._

      Indrid was sitting in front of her at a chair they’d pulled up to the mirror, and she was currently holding a pair of scissors and doing her damndest to style his mess of silver hair. She’d been pretty confident at first, but now she was questioning why the hell they hadn’t just taken him to a barber. And then she remembered: he was nervous about going into town. Dani looked at Indrid’s reflection in the mirror. He was listening to Aubrey tell a story about one of her old magic shows, a story Dani had heard before, and he was smiling and laughing at all the right places. She remembered the way he’d mimicked her words – a nervous tic apparently – and the awkwardness he’d exhibited when she addressed him by his title. Remembered Barclay’s hemming and hawing the previous evening, not wanting to say too much, which had left her with the impression that Indrid had gotten upset about something.

      Alone in an RV for ten years, without any other Sylvans or even any humans. Dani took a fortifying breath and made a last few determined cuts at his hair. Come hell or high water – a favorite phrase of Mama’s – she was going to get this man confident enough to make more friends. Abandoning the scissors, she switched to a wet comb, trying to style his hair the best she could. She set it down as Aubrey finished her story, and the other two turned their attention to the mirror.

      “What do you think?” Dani asked nervously. “I mean, uh, I’m thinking this is kind of the first step, but…”

      Indrid tilted his head, considering his reflection. She’d tried to rein in his unruly mop of hair, making it look short and spiky based on a picture in the hairstyling books she’d hurriedly read at the library. After a moment, he gave a slow smile. “I like it. It’s…different.”

      “Good different though,” said Aubrey, bumping Dani’s shoulder.

      “Good different,” he agreed, and Aubrey grinned as Dani let out a sigh of relief.

      “See? I told ya she’d do great.”

      Indrid ran a hand through his new haircut. “What’s next in this plan of yours?”

      This was the part Dani felt more confident about. She reached into her bag and pulled out a packet. “How do you feel about adding some color?”

      A short time later, Indrid had one of Duck’s old towels draped over his shoulders as Dani pulled on a pair of gloves and began to work the dye into his hair. Aubrey bounced up and down on the stool she’d dragged in. “This is gonna look _awesome!”_

      “I hope so,” Indrid said, chuckling. “Not that I don’t have confidence in you, Dani.”

      “Trust me, I’m hoping it comes out well too. I’ve – ” Dani was interrupted by the phone ringing down the hall.

      “I’ll get it!” Aubrey sprang up and left the room, and the ringing stopped as she presumably answered.

      Silence fell, Indrid apparently content to sit quietly as Dani continued the dye job. A few minutes passed, and she absentmindedly started to hum a popular Candlenights carol that Moira had been playing on the piano that morning.

      There were footsteps in the hallway, and Aubrey bounded back into the room. “That was – Indrid?”

      Dani looked up at the shift in her voice and saw that he was crying. She stopped with her hands buried in his hair, watching his reflection as a tear leaked out from under his glasses. “Are you…okay?”

      Indrid cleared his throat, and the sound was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I’d forgotten that song.”

      Dani stepped aside so she could look at him properly. “You forgot _Winter Rhapsody_?”

      He raised a hand to wipe at his eyes. “I…I haven’t heard it in many years.”

      Dani looked over his head at Aubrey, horrified, and was surprised to find that Aubrey just looked sad and understanding. It was as though forgetting a song that everyone knew from childhood wasn’t unexpected at all. And with Indrid’s lifestyle, maybe it wasn’t.

      Blowing out a breath, Dani stood behind him again and resumed her work on his hair. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t…I’ve felt isolated from Sylvain for a long time, but I guess…not to that extent.” _Because I’ve had other Sylvans with me._

      “There’s no need to apologize,” Indrid said, sounding stronger. “It’s good to hear it again.”

      “Well, I don’t have the best voice, but I think I can help you out.” Dani began to sing the lyrics, and although she heard him sniff a few times, a smile crept onto his face and stayed there. 

__________________________

      “That was Ned on the phone,” Aubrey said as she and Dani sat on the couch eating the casserole Indrid had proudly offered them. “He wanted to know where he could get a bunch of those little triangle peg-jumping games.”

       Dani swallowed her mouthful of casserole. “Why?”

     “No idea.” Aubrey put her empty plate on the coffee table. “Hopefully he’s not trying to turn Indrid’s place into a Cracker Barrel.”

      “I like Cracker Barrel,” Indrid said from the hallway, and they both jumped up and turned towards him. He grinned, lowering the towel he’d been drying his hair with. “And I also very much like this look.”

      Aubrey whistled, and Dani silently thanked the universe at large that the dye hadn’t all washed out in the shower. She’d managed to leave his hair just long enough that the streaks of red were clearly visible, alternating between patches of silver and standing out well above the red of his glasses. It didn’t look tacky, it didn’t look amateur, it looked…very _Indrid_.

      “Didn’t I tell you she’d be great?!” Aubrey exclaimed, and hugged him and then Dani. “You look fucking baller!”

     Still smiling broadly, he flopped down on the couch as they sat back down. “I have to thank you, Dani. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and frankly I was somewhat nervous, but this…this may be a change that I didn’t know I needed.”

     “I’m glad to help,” she said, laughing as Daisy came over to sniff at his hair. “But we’re not done yet.”

      “Oh?” He tilted his head. “What more is there to do?”

      She blinked at him. “I mean, we’ve only done your disguise. I assumed you wanted to do your natural form as well? Unless you’re happy with that.”

     He tensed up, head turning to glance at Aubrey. “I…well, I mean, I wouldn’t want to…make Aubrey uncomfortable.”

      Confused, Dani looked between the two of them and saw that Aubrey did in fact look somewhat uncomfortable, in a guilty kind of way. “What? Why would she have a problem with it?”

     “I, ah…” Indrid turned his attention to Daisy, not looking at either of them. “The thing is, humans find me frightening, and that’s…not something I want to, well…”

     Dani turned to look at Aubrey again, and took in how guilty she looked. “Were you _afraid_ of him?” she asked incredulously. “What did you do, tell him he looked like a Halloween prop?”

     “Um.” Aubrey fiddled with one of the pins on her vest. “I kinda…told him to put his glasses back on…in a maybe sort-of scared way?”

      “What the fuck!” She regretted her outburst as Aubrey shrank back, and tried to keep some of the venom out of her voice. “I’ve had my disguise off this whole time, and I know for a fact you aren’t freaked out by me, even though your whole culture tells you I could kill you and suck your blood! But you told him to put his disguise back on? Because you were more comfortable with him looking human? What about his comfort?”

     “It’s all right,” Indrid said hastily. “There’s no need to argue, I understand. It’s a perfectly reasonable – ”

     "It’s not!” Dani said, although she managed to make her voice more level. “Nobody gets to pick and choose what parts of a person’s identity they’re okay with. They have to accept the whole thing, even if it doesn’t line up with their expectations or fit into their comfort zone.” She hesitated. “Unless the person’s, like, a major asshole, but that’s not an identity, that’s an issue. Oh, you know what I mean!”

     “She’s right,” Aubrey said as Indrid started to open his mouth to object again. “I’m not scared of Dani, and I’m not scared of Barclay, and I’m not…I’m not scared of you, Indrid.” She took a deep breath. “As a person, I mean. I was maybe a little scared – okay, yeah, I was actually scared – when, you know, you just suddenly were really tall and furry and had those big jaws and stuff and just, kind of looked like a giant bug? Because I wasn’t expecting it.” She looked at him, her chin held high. “But I knew you would never hurt us. I wasn’t scared like that, just a little freaked out. And I should have taken a moment to – to get over it, and rationalize that it was just you, but the thing about humans is that when something makes us uncomfortable and doesn’t fit our expectations, we just want to make it go away as fast as possible. And that’s wrong. So…I’m really sorry, Indrid.” A hesitant smile. “If you want to take your disguise off, that’s okay with me.”

      Indrid sat still for a moment, one hand slowly stroking Daisy’s head. Finally he cleared his throat. “Thank you, Aubrey. For the record, it’s not just humans who react that way to those things.” He laughed a little, bitterly, then gave her a genuine smile. “I accept your apology. Although…” he turned to Dani. “I don’t think I’m interested in making over my natural form at the moment, but…perhaps in the future?”

     Dani smiled back. “Just hit me up whenever. You know where to find me.” She bumped her shoulder against Aubrey’s, a thanks and an apology, and got a grin back that told her both had been accepted. Leaning forward, she picked up the bag at her feet. “There is one more thing we could do, if you’re interested?”

     Indrid looked at her curiously, and his face lit up when she pulled out a bottle of nail polish. “Oh, _yes._ ”

 

__________________________

     “I have to admit,” Indrid mused, blowing on his nails, “Deliberately not looking into the future normally makes me nervous, but not spoiling your surprises has been worth it. That being said, Duck will be home in approximately one minute.”

      Aubrey spun to look at him, almost smearing the polish she was putting on Dani. “What? We didn’t even plan a fabulous reveal! He’s just gonna walk through the door and see you?”

      “Isn’t that more unexpected?” Dani asked, dabbing at her finger. “To find him just sitting here like nothing’s new?”

      “I guess?” Aubrey frowned as they all heard a key in the lock. “I would have liked more glitter.”

      Duck opened the door, chuckling as Daisy came over to greet him. “Hey, darlin’. You keep everyone in line today?” He patted her and closed the door, finally turning to look at the group sitting on the carpet.

    “Hello, Duck.” Indrid grinned, holding up his hands to show off the red nail polish that matched his glasses and hair. “What do you think?”

     Duck stared for a moment, mouth slightly open. “You…you look like a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto.”

     “ _What?”_ Aubrey yelped as Dani and Indrid fell over laughing. “All the reactions in the world and you tell him he looks like a snack food?”

    “They’re both red!” Duck stammered, turning red himself. “It was just the first thing – aw, hell, Indrid, sorry, you look good. Real good.”

     “He - ” Dani gasped, trying to stop laughing enough to talk, “He thinks he looks like a _snack –_ ”

    “Oh my _God_ – ”

     “A _snacc_ \- ”

     “Now, that’s the one with two c’s, ain’t it?” Duck scowled. “I can hear it, I’m hip with the lingo, and that’s not what I, uh…” He broke off and looked reproachfully at Indrid, who had let out an absolute cackle.

     “Duck,” he wheezed, “I’m almost 100 years old and from another _planet_ and I can tell you’re just digging yourself deeper. _Hip_ with the _lingo?_ ”

      “All right, you look nice, okay?” Duck finally gave a grudging smile as Dani and the others began to settle down. “Let’s just agree that I said you look great and move on from there.”

     “Thank you,” Indrid said, swallowing a last giggle. “All thanks to Dani, of course. She decided that if I have bright hair, it might distract people from noticing other…oddities about me.”

     Duck nodded to Dani and sat down on the couch. “Well, next time I’m in the market for a new look, I’ll keep you in mind.”

     “You could start now,” Indrid suggested, holding up the nail polish. “I think this blue would go well on you, don’t you think, Aubrey?”

      “Yeah!” She gave a Duck a puppy-dog look. “Join us?”

      He hesitated. “Naw, I don’t know…”

     “It would bring out your eyes,” Indrid persisted.

     “My eyes?” Dani swore Duck was starting to blush again.

      Aubrey held up the bottle of nail polish remover. “If you don’t like it, you can take it off.”

      “…Aw, why not.” Duck took off his hat and set it on the coffee table. “But y’all are gonna have to come sit up here, I got these old bones and I can’t be getting on the floor like you youngsters…”

      Aubrey scowled. “Duck, you literally have magic immunity and shit, there’s no way your _joints_ are bad.”

      He gave her a lopsided grin. “Yeah, but I’m tired as hell.”

      Aubrey stuck her tongue out but started to gather up the nail polish, and Indrid plopped down on the couch next to Duck and seized his hand, inspecting his nails (and yup, definitely making him turn red again). Dani watched them for a moment, smiling, before shaking her head and moving to help Aubrey. She hadn’t been sure what to expect from this whole “help Indrid” thing, but if today was any indication, it was going to go pretty well.

     “I’m surprised Dani didn’t make you more, you know, like her style.”

     She looked at Duck, letting her eyes glow just a little redder and hiding her laughter at the way he squirmed. “I’m sorry, what’s my style, exactly?”

     “You know, uh…..crunchy?” The last word came out in a squeak, and she gave him her best fang-filled smile.

      “Well, hey, Duck, let’s talk some more about me styling your hair…” She caught Indrid’s quiet chuckle under Duck’s protests and Aubrey’s laughter, and hummed to herself in satisfaction. Yup, she got the feeling that things were going to work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the Candlenights carol was originally going to be Margaritaville, prompting Aubrey to ask if Jimmy Buffet is from Sylvain, but a goof didn't feel right there. 
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry I'm going so long between updates, but I haven't given up, I swear! Also have y'all seen Queer Eye Season 3???


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